


Nice & Warm

by S_Faith



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2019-11-24 01:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18159689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: Mark's attention to detail is unmatched.





	Nice & Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Book universe, _EOR_. Slots into Chapter 14: Jude's wedding. Heh.
> 
> Disclaimer: Isn't mine!

_Saturday, 6 December._

_10.45 am, Claridges Hotel._

Weirdest thing just happened. Was knock on door, and bridesmaids, i.e. Shaz and me, looked at each other in shock. (Jude is having self made up by professional and we are left to fend for selves.) Wedding not until 12.15; we are not ready, haven't done nails yet, and not, obviously, expecting company.

"Bridget?"

Was Mark. Smiled smugly to self. Forgetting for moment that have hair in pin curls trying to achieve ringlets (and was wearing slip), ran to door and flung it open wide. Watched Mark momentarily lose control of features (eyebrows shooting towards hairline, appreciative look at self in slip) before offering smile.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," I said, rather stupidly. He looked so handsome in the suit, didn't know what else to say.

His eyes flicked down again. "Interesting bridesmaid dress."

"Not dressed yet, durr," I said, hiding behind the door a little. Truth was, actual bridesmaid dress was monstrosity, lilac puffball from which feet protruded like trunk on topiary. Only benefit was that it made feet look small by comparison. "Something wrong?"

"Oh no," he said. "I just forgot… I have something for you."

Was v. sure I looked v. excited, and was, though tried not to seem overly so. After all, would be fool not to be excited when lovely boyfriend announces he has present for self, but tacky to show it.

"It's not much," he added. "But I thought it was something you might like today."

He held out his hand, which bore a small, plain, white carrier bag. I took it from him, confused.

"Hear it's very cold in the church," he said. "And also hear your dress, for all its, um, _girth_ , isn't much to speak of to protect you against the elements." He bent and kissed me quickly, smiled again, looked briefly but pointedly down the front of my slip, then retreated. "See you in a little while."

I closed the door after him, still feeling quite perplexed.

"What was that?" Shaz asked, shaking her hands, as if that has ever gotten nail varnish to dry any faster.

"Not sure," I said, digging in to the bag, then feeling my mouth drop open when I realised what he had brought me.

Bloody thermal underwear!

Feeling peevish, set bag onto table, then stared at it. Sharon asked me what it was. I told her. "Oh," she said, holding on to glass with pads of finger only and kicking back the last of her wine—second glass that morning, ugh—"you're always bloody complaining about the cold."

Hm. Remember now how freezing it was driving this morning—below zero temperatures—and how dress was in fact chiffon-like and insubstantial. At least thermals are flesh coloured, and no one will ever see them. 

Hm.

Suppose is v.g., after all, to have sensible boyfriend who thinks of these things for self.

Oops, must get dressed, finish hair and then do nails. Shaz has brought lovely Rouge Noir polish.

_2.30 pm. Claridges Hotel, post-ceremony._

Do not _know_ what would have done without thermal underwear. 

Just arrived back to hotel for dinner / reception. Was dying for fag but could not tolerate thought of going out into sub-arctic-like world just to satisfy petty, greedy nicotine craving. Was putting coat in hotel room with other things for the day when heard door close behind me. Turn around expecting to see mad burglar, serial killer or worse. Smiled instead. Was Mark.

"You were great today," I said, turning to face him, thinking of the football boys—how he had corralled them out so we could actually enjoy the wedding—and of his saving my behind, literally, with my thermal knickers, which I intended to shimmy out of now that we were safely inside a heated building like all good buildings in a civilised society should be.

"You were pretty great yourself," he said, coming up to me. "How did you like your present?"

I chuckled. "Very well indeed."

"Just coming to check up on you," he said, putting his hands on my waist, then surprising me as his hands slid down over my backside, pulling him close to me. "Coming to check that your lovely bottom is still nice and warm."

Couldn't possibly be turned on by lilac poofball dress. No way. But he kept kneading my arse, pressing me against him. There was no other explanation.

"That certainly helps," I managed swoonily, placing my hands on his besuited arms. Had feeling was going to be bloody late to receiving line. Did not care. "In fact, almost too warm now that we're inside."

"Mmm," he murmured. Felt his lips on my cheek, near my hairline, breath hot in ear. "I'd better double-check," he said in that low sexy register that renders me completely powerless. "Oh, and take appropriate measures after assessing the situation."

"Yes," I agreed, though did not sound quite like word 'yes', more like incomprehensible whimper.

There was a bed in the room, one of those insanely high hotel beds, but it had all of our stuff strewn upon it. Predictably, within moments felt bed against arse and back of thighs. Felt him bend down, trailing blunted nails up my thermal-clad legs as he raised the voluminous puffball up to my hips, resting the bulk of it on the bed behind me. Still could not believe he found self the least bit attractive. Perhaps Mark's own wedding issues have manifested in wanting to shag badly-dressed bridesmaids. Did not care.

"Hm," he said, hands gliding over my hips and bottom, before one reached up under the princess waist to find the elastic of the thermals; the other moved between my legs, eliciting a gasp as the knuckle of his thumb pressed hard upwards. "Well, I do believe you're a little too warm. These must go."

"If you insist," I slurred with shag-drunkenness, my arms now linking around his neck to keep me from melting onto floor.

With a sharp tug the thermals were down over my hips then discarded. The tights beneath them came off too, followed by—

"Still too warm," he said gruffly, his hands moving between the bare flesh of my thighs and the silk of my tiny knickers before he peeled them away. Felt him hurriedly tug at his trousers, working open button and tearing down fly. Moaned helplessly into his mouth as he kissed me at last, leaned against me then pressed me into the bed. Hooked legs around his, gasped as he drove into me. Felt thumbs digging into my hips, fingers pressing into duly warmed bottom, as he pulled me down into him with each thrust up. Thanks to near-ambush nature of assignation, with potential-of-discovery factor dangerously high, quickly reached culmination with a little more vocal enthusiasm than imagine Mark was comfortable with… at least until he uttered his own louder-than-usual groan before trembling then collapsing atop me.

"Jesus, Bridget," he said, kissing me again with voraciousness rarely seen in him. Kissed him back with equal force, though had to be careful not to initiate round two; did not want to be so late as to arouse suspicion. "All those layers…" he muttered, working on my earlobe with his teeth, zinging along my skin as he said, "Mmmmm. Like some delightfully sinful nested doll… or Kinder egg."

At that could not help giggling. "With the best bit at the centre."

He laughed, then pulled back to look at me. "God. How did I ever get on without you?" he asked tenderly; if not for the lilac poof under my back and the fact that he was still, for the most part, fully dressed, having shagged me with his shoes and tie on, would have been most romantic moment in history of moments. Though certainly, in retrospect, was one of sexiest.

"Dunno," I managed, "but if we don't get down there soon they're gonna come looking for us."

He seemed to take the point, kissed me briefly on the lips once more, then pushed himself up. He threw me one more sexy look—eyeing me up and down in my prostrate state—before extending a hand to me to help me to my feet, then turned his attention to being presentable again. Do not wish to think how appeared lying back on bed with apparently purple tutu and pale white winter legs.

Smoothed dress down, patted at hair, dabbed on powder and fixed lipstick. Without words asked him about my appearance. "Beautiful," he said, extending his elbow to me, which I threaded my hand through.

Knew Rebecca was down there. Still felt as if could take on world.

_Later._

Packing up room to leave, Shaz just found the silky little pants she saw me put on this morning… under nightstand at hotel.

Oh God. Will never hear end of it.

_The end._


End file.
